


The Emperor's New Clothes *BEING REWRITTEN IGNORE THIS*

by TheCosmicSlaughter



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicSlaughter/pseuds/TheCosmicSlaughter
Summary: I have this listed as an original work so less people will see it but all credit goes to DC/Warner Bros."so what now, Doll?" he swayed on his heels, raising his hands in defeat; a dark smile on his face. "ya gonna shoot me? huh? Ruin my pretty suit?"she cocked the rifle, pressing it's muzzle into his chest and swallowing dryly. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?"





	1. Glasgow Smile

**Author's Note:**

> to start off with, if you don't like dark stories, this one isn't for you! there will be lots of dark themed and explicit content so go away if youre sensitive to any of those things!
> 
> secondly, thank you so so much for tuning into my twisted brainchild of a story. I've been thinking of this one for a long time and finally had the guts to put pen to paper after someone requested a fic! I do take requests for character/reader or OFC stories so PM if you have any ideas!
> 
> I love reviews and comments so if you have any please share! I'm open to criticism and suggestions!

Dixie's arms reached for either side of her plush matress in a long stretch, bones popping in a symphony of comfort. the silk sheets glided against her skin as she slid out of bed  
  
she looked around at the wooden gray walls and marveled at the white trim that she herself painted as she made her way to the kitchen. if she could paint more than happy faces, you bet your sweet ass thats the career she would have picked. but she was a Tailor by trade. the best in all the land.

and _how she **loved** the perks._

her flat screen was paper thin and the walls were lined with photos of her celebrity customers, awards, reviews and trophies from early cosplay contests she'd entered as a teenager.

every inch of the building, which she owned; a small brownstone with a fence barracading it from the street, was made to her specifications.

if Gotham got anything right, it was Luxury.  
  
it was hard to believe only three weeks ago the whole place was empty.  
  
she glanced over a newspaper on the counter headlined : **DIXIE STRATTON TAKES GOTHAM BY STORM!**  
  
it showed her arrival in the city, exiting a Lamborghini wearing a hoodie and leggings. she had a headache that day and didn't feel much for appearances. not that it mattered how she was dressed- everyone still lost their minds.  
  
another that read:  
**DIXIE STRATTON'S " ARSENAL" OPEN FOR BUSINESS!**  
  
the features were all of clients, both wholesome and crooked. everyone from Bruce Wayne to Salvatore Maroni had come to see her since she arrived, their luxurious suits still waiting to be made in her work studio upstairs.  
  
as Dixie munched away at a bowl of frosted flakes the sound of heavy panting and nails tapping on the wood floors could be heard from the other side of the house.  
  
_looks like he's awake_ , she smiled to herself "Lockjaw!"  
  
the feet began to thud faster, right into the kitchen, and a large dog slid past her. it was a Cane Corso with a square head and cropped ears that almost reached her waist. he had hazel eyes and a shiny black coat. that was why she chose him. because his color broke up his outline in the darkness. that way if anyone broke into the studio they wouldn't see him coming until it was too late.  
  
he sat happily, turning so he could make eye contact with her.

she remembered watching him waddle around as a puppy, woofing as he played with his siblings under the watchful eye of his mother. it made her chest ache to see how he'd grown.

Dixie was sorry for him.

he didn't know he was only there so the bad guys would have something to shoot at instead of her. she loved the beast; _adored_ him, but as far as bulletproof vests went, Big Beautiful Lockjaw was the finest money could buy.

they moved from the glittering streets of New York to be closer to her family. her cousins were having some trouble with the law and she promised her aunt they would have jobs at her fabric warehouse.

the transition to Gotham wasn't all bad though. her brother, Donnie came with her. his building wasn't too far off and he had an office just a block over where they would meet to discuss issues that she was too lazy to deal with.

she groaned inwardly at the realization that she would have to be at his office for a party later.  
  
"you hungry big fella?" she asked, scratching the thick muscles of lockjaw's neck, mind still lingering on the minor irritation of talking to  _people_

  
the animal's tongue lolled from his mouth, eyes closing in happiness.

 Dixie poured him a bowl of kibbles and left it in her room, closing the door when he went in so she could mop without him walking over the wet floors  
  
she was about to begin when she heard two frantic male voices were right outside the door, fiddling with the knob.  
  
Dixie rested her hand on a kitchen knife that was left on the counter, anxiety shooting through her. it was covered in remnants of a sandwich she cut with it but it would have to do.  
  
the voices became louder, beginning to argue.  
  
she peeked carefully out the window and sighed in frustration when she saw who it was. as soon as her hand touched the knob, they burst in, unceremoniously smacking her in the face

"what the hell!" her hand rubbed at the spot where the wood collided with her skull.

her mouth had barely opened to groan an additional complaint when she saw that the two men were holding.

a thin man with  _makeup_ slathered across his face was being dragged around the kitchen by her cousins, half concious and mumbling incoherently.

"okay, so..." she held up her palms, signaling for them to keep still and, for a moment, they did. her palm covered her mouth as she fought to find the words. should she ask them questions? should she kick them out? eventually they began to fumble with the man's limbs again and she settled for nervously groaning "explain this to me in a way that won't make me call the cops..."

the taller of the two spoke first, Carter "our friend got hit by a car on a. . .  ** _job_**." he explained breathlessly "he can't go to a hospital, you were the only option, Dix,"

the shorter man, Leon chimed in "we'll do chores or something to thank you, I know how your lazy ass hates dishes," it sounded more like a plea than an offer.

Dixie's expression softened- she promised herself was done enabling their criminalistic habits. this wasn't the first time they'd dumped their problems on her.

despite all of her self affirmation, she had a nagging feeling that it was far from the last...

"I can't _deal_ with this right now," she tossed the knife into the sink, clearing the table before she rushed to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit "I have an event today!"  
  
Carter slapped the blonde fringe from his face with his large hand, dropping the bleeding man's feet "yeah well it looks like you're gonna miss it-"  
  
"Shush; you dont even- you're both on thin ice right now, if your mother finds out you've been out pulling heists again she'll have a heart attack-!" she poked his chest aggressively when she came back into the room.

Carter tilted his head in a gentle warning- much calmer than his frantic brother "she'll _never_ find out because you'll _never_ tell her," 

Dixie groaned, stomach growling in anxiety. he was right; she would never tell "I don't have time for this,"  
  
"yeah-right-yuh-what-we can't _all_  be the kind of criminals that can just w- _walk down the street_ for a loaf of bread Dix," Leo sputtered irritably, helping to yank the wounded man onto the kitchen table  
  
"my suit prices are _more than_   _fair-"_  she flinched when the man flailed his limbs and paused so she could get a better look at him

his suit looked like it was haphazardly fished from a dumpster. he wore a light blue pinstriped button up tucked into badly creased pants that were heavily altered and redone in several places. his jacket, a faded black, was far too big for him and what looked to be a clown mask was sticking out of the pocket.  
  
he smelled too.  
  
the man smelled like gunsmoke and blood and gasoline. he smelled of sweat and the crooked streets of Gotham.  
  
dirty blonde roots grew in a few inches underneath a greasy head of bright green hair, but what was most unsettling about him was his face. he had chunks of scar tissue running along both his cheeks. she recognised the wound as a Chelsea Grin, though her father would call it a Glasgow Smile-(remembrances from his days as a Gangster)his skin was painted white. there were dark circles around his eyes and his lips were a bright red, extending past the edges of his mouth and into the scars themselves.

  
Dixie had never seen such a strange thing in all her life "Leonidas," she leaned over the table to examine him "who the hell _is_ this guy?"

he cackled like a hyena as he stirred, pointing a gloved finger at Leon "your name is _Leonidas?_ " his lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of yellow teeth  
  
there was a knock on the door and the three of them panicked, the man on the table continuing to laugh hysterically  
  
" _oh my god_ , get him-"  
  
Carter scrambled to grab his legs again  
  
"move him to the studio!"

  
"fuck-fucking _fuck_!"  
  
"hurry!" Dixie snapped her fingers, whisper-yelling commands at the men  
  
"I can't go back to jail-!"

  
"you're not going- _just get him upstairs_ you ditz!"  
  
Carter and Leo clumsily pulled the still laughing man from their cousin's table in a panic, frantically moving him in the direction of the studio steps while lockjaw barked in the background, pawing hard at the bedroom door to see what was happening  
  
*KNOCKKNOCK*  
  
"just a minute!" she threw the first aid kit through the doorway to the other room, jogging to the back door to answer it  
  
*KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK* "DIXIE OPEN UP I'M HOLDING IN A SHIT THE SIZE OF AN OSTRICH EGG!"  
  
Dixie's muscles instantly relaxed as she realized it was her brother "false alarm, it's Donnie!" she called to the trio of hoodlums making their way to her studio

they brought him back to the table, lungs heaving and muscles aching from moving him back and forth while Dixie answered the door for her brother.

the well dressed man froze when he stepped into the house, gripping a fistful of his thick black hair in distress "who the hell is that?"

Leon took a cigarette from his pocket and rifled through the drawers for a lighter, ignoring the question, which brought Carter to respond:

" _they call him The Joker_."


	2. Myths, Legends and Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo, I just want it to be clear that this is going by Heath Ledger's joker not whatever Jared Leto was trying to do in suicide squad, I'm trying to keep the Dark Knight Joker as true to form as possible and I'm going to treat Dark Knight as an individual universe of it's own BUT if I ever use facts or theories from anywhere else you'll see it in my notes before you read the chapter it's in. enjoy!

Dixie Stratton was, in many ways, still a little girl. she was happy. she was optimistic; but sometimes she couldnt handle things that she aught to.

in a world like this, that was a dangerous disadvantage.

Donnie couldn't help but glance at his sister from the corner of his eye. she was looking out the window of his Bentley as buildings blurred by.

she wore a nice dress that he threw at her after she refused to come to the event he'd so carefully planned. it was a half long sleeve his ex wife bought Dixie and the most lavish thing she happened to own, the rest of the clothes in her closet being hoodies and jeans.  
  
you'd think someone so rich would at least act like it.  
  
her long black hair was tucked behind her ear and on her left shoulder there was a white ink tattoo of a hexagon shaped shield with a dragon at it's center; Grandpa Daegan Stratton's family crest.

if she had a few streaks of gray and some wrinkles he could almost mistake her for their mother, though, he would never say that out loud.

after some coaxing and arguing and deleting the morning's footage from her surveillance system to cover up for their cousins, she finally agreed to come.

  
"Dix?" he tapped her shoulder when they came to a red light but she didn't stir "I'm sorry that happened hun,"  
  
the woman sighed. it was a heavy sound with leagues of heartbreak. one could almost touch the disappointment rolling from her body "I can't say I'm shocked," she whispered "our relatives have a way of wrecking everything they touch."

that got him. he knew his little sister wanted so badly for their family to  _be a family_.  
  
Donnie itched his stubble "I don't know about _everything_." the car came to another stop "I mean mom and dad did a pretty good job when they made _me_ right?" his eyebrows wagged up and down.  
  
"ew." she pushed his face away with her hand and they both laughed. "before you go home let me get some secondary measurements, you're getting fat."  
  
he snorted "I'm not fat, I don't need a Stratton."  
  
her eyes rolled. her brother donned a gray suit with a black dress shirt and tie. she knew if she looked at the collar of the tie or flipped the lapel of his jacket she would find an 'S' framed by a hexagon. "like you aren't currently wearing a Stratton."  
  
"what," he picked at the seams of his jacket cheekily "this _shabby_ old thing?"  
  
Dixie's hands shot out at his neck jokingly making him swerve a bit at the stoplight and press on the breaks in a crooked position.  
  
she smacked him, laughing "never ask me for anything you dick!"  
  
his mouth opened to reply when the whole car was thrust sideways, Donnie's half of the windshield shattering from the impact. the whole driver's side of the car was now bent inwards and as the two looked out the window they caught a glimpse of a large car containing three people in....

**_clown masks..._ **

Dixie's thoughts roamed back to  ~~the guy on her table~~   _The Joker._ she recalled seeing a similar clown mask hanging from his pocket

the way they all peered into the car unnerved the two and the large van sped off before either of them could process what was happening.

the Stratton siblings had a long speechless pause before exploding into panic

her head shook repeatedly, like someone had just whispered a bad joke in her ear "that better not be Carter and Leo-"

  
"call aunt Doris, _right now_!"

  
she fumbled around the seat looking for her cell but remembered how she'd left it on the kitchen table because the dress her brother forced her to wear didn't have any _goddamn_ pockets "I don't have a phone!"  
  
"Jesus Christ Dix-" Donnie dug his cell from his pocket and continued to drive towards his office while his sister dialed their aunt on the other side of Gotham  
  
it rang. once. twice. " _hello_?" Carter answered. the disorganized strumming of an electric guitar could be heard in the background.  
  
the siblings exhaled in relief  
  
"where is leo?" Dixie asked  
  
" _he's right here, we went home after we left your place_."  
  
the strumming sped up  
  
Donnie made an unsure sound, pulling into the parking lot "ehhhhh, I don't trust that."  
  
_"MA!_ " Carter's deep voice screamed into the phone " _DIXIE WANTS TO KNOW IF LEO'S OUT DOING CRIMES."_  
  
they could hear their aunt's hard irish brogue pierce the noise going on in the little house _" 'e be'er not be, why I raised 'im up to be solid- I raised the boy to be-LEONIDAS!"_  
  
the strumming stopped " _WHAT MA_!?"

there was a crash and a slew of curses, probably from little old aunt Doris beating up her son. 

she hung up, giving him a stern look "we are _not_ calling the police."

her brother groaned into his hand. she always did this when their cousins got into trouble. always tried to cover up for them- for Carter more than Leon. Carter was always always looking out for Donnie and Dixie when times were hard.

 _now it was their turn to take care of him,_ he supposed.

"if we call up the police about guys in _clown masks_ and someone, probably _Jim Gordon,_ finds out they've been hanging out with some guy in a fucking clown mask-"  
  
"Dixie, we can't just-"  
  
she cut him off; it was her ass on the line if anyone found out they had brought some strange man to her house, that she had seen the freak right before he blew up a building or whatever the three men in the van planned to do. "you-don't-i-NO, they were in _my_  kitchen this morning, if someone saw them come up-!"  
  
Donnie sighed, pulling his key from the ignition. "Al- _alright_ , alright- okay. _you're_ paying for the repairs," he said "let me tell you, parts for a Bentley are _not cheap_."  
  
Dixie smiled at her brother in relief and they both entered the building.  
  
there were a few dozen people that cheered as she walked through the door on the tenth floor but the most noteable was the one and only Bruce wayne.

"Fräulein Stratton," the smooth, familiar voice was a welcome sound after all of the unfamiliar chaos that seemed to be consuming her day. "eine große Freude, dich wiederzusehen," _**so good to see you again!**_  
  
"Herr Wayne," she smiled "ich wusste nicht, dass du deutsch sprichst," _**I didn't know you spoke German.**_

"just that sentence," he laughed "ive heard it's a Stratton tradition to learn German before English." Bruce gave Dixie's knuckles a peck, locking palms with Donnie who walked off to join a group of people before turning his attention back to her. "or was it celtic?"  
  
she sighed, shaking her head "a bold rumor," her arm linked with his "and also a lie,"

"so what was the language I heard the Stratton Brothers mumbling in while they were being shoved in a police car last month?" his head tilted into hers so he could whisper to her.

her eye twitched, heartbeat speeding up in response to her anxiety. Carter and Leonidas had obviously made themselves known in the underground of Gotham and Bruce's question was a hard jab at not only her reputation but at her morals.

* * *

 

**_"they call him The Joker"_ **

_a wave of panic shot through Dixie's stomach. having so many chaotic variables in her kitchen was making her nervous. there was no room in her life for chaos; for things she couldnt control. everything had a time and place, and this was not the correct of either._

_she mirrored her brother, shoving the fingers of both hands through her hair. what a nightmare this morning was turning out to be "Warum bust du heir?" **why are you here**? she turned to Donnie, calling to him in German._  
  
_he jogged over to the bathroom, glancing once at 'the Joker' and slamming the door behind him. "Um Dich für die party zu bekommen!" **to get you for the party!**  the door muffled his voice._  
  
_she groaned and chose not to respond, instead retrieving the first aid kit from the floor in the hallway and walking back to the table. Carter and Leo had made themselves comfy on her granite counter and watched as she approached the strange man._  
  
_"are you in any pain?" her eyes raked over him, not fully believing what she was seeing. hit by a car? how was he even conscious? how was he still **alive?**_  
  
_he spoke in a lazy drawl, tongue darting out every few seconds to lick the corners of his mouth "I'm right as rain, Doll-" his elbows moved to support his upper half "never felt **Bett** er."_  
  
_her brows pulled together in disbelief "you must at least have a concussion?" she noticed a dribble of blood dripping from the corner of his head._  
  
_the boys leaned foreward slightly, both apparently anticipating some kind of reaction. this was enough to make her stomach knot up._  
  
_the Joker sat up and heaved himself off of the table in Dixie's direction. his hands clamped on either Side of her head roughly, a long stiletto appearing from thin air and pressing between his palm and her skull "Dixie Stratton-Gotham's **Sweet** heart concerned for little old **me,** " he said in a dry voice. it was void of all humor but heavy in sarcasm as if he were angry- maybe even offended. "how about tha **t?"**_  
  
_from the corner of her eye she could see Carter put a hand on the gun at his belt, careful not to make a sound as he readied himself for a fight._  
  
_she gripped the cuffs of the man's jacket, grabbing the lapels instead when he pushed her against the fridge. there wasn't much that bothered Dixie- lots that she was afraid of but little that could actually break her- but this- this **guy** ; he was **terrifying**._  
  
_his voice came in and out of high pitches, as if he were asking himself questions instead of her "am I **frightening**_ _you_?" _he licked his lips again_  
  
_her lips parted and there was a loud crash; from her bedroom door crumbling into pieces, she assumed. Lockjaw rushed through the hall into the kitchen, taking a pause to see what was happening before barking his head off again_  
  
_"Wundstarrkrampf!" **Lockjaw**! Dixie yelled, unable to see him from how hard the Joker was holding her face "aufhören!" **Cease!**_

_Leon laughed nervously, holding his hands up as he sidestepped the table towards the back door. he was incredibly aware that the animal didn't care for him"heyy, Boss," he gripped the doorknob, still facing them and keeping an eye on lockjaw "dontcha think it's time to hit the road?"_

_Dixie glared at her cousin, avoiding eye contact with the man still holding her hostage. what an asshole, she thought. what a coward._

_the click of a pistol's safety lock caught her attention._

_"I'd be on your way if I were you," Donnie's smooth voice warned "I haven't used this thing in a while so I have plenty of rounds."_

_the Joker stared directly at her, never faltering for a second. " **well** , Miss  **Stratton** ," his fingers touched her neck, making her shiver in fear "it looks like this is good **bye**. stay out of **t** rouble!" he smacked her in the forehead and released her, letting her shoulders fall back against the fridge._

_"don't come back, Leonidas!" she called after her cousin with tears in her eyes "you're scum and I better not ever catch you around here again, do you hear me!"_

_the Joker followed him out, snorting and cackling the whole way_

_Carter wrapped his arm around her shoulders "I gotta go get him," he cooed, leaning towards the door. he was always right by Leo no matter what. always ready to take care of his little brother. but then he'd always been there for Dixie too. "I love you dix," he kissed her on the forehead, walking out the same way he came in to follow them and gently closing the door behind him._

_who was she to judge?_

_she hugged him back tightly then watched him go._

_she'd have to start sleeping with her eyes open..._

* * *

 

"my parents taught Donnie and I German as soon as we could talk," she explained with an agitated sigh, trying to answer the question as indirectly as possible " but my cousin's parents are both Irish." _  
_

he shook hands with a few more people, chuckling to himself "so they speak Gaelic?"

"Gaelic." she confirmed with a hard reluctance. "what makes you so interested in my cousins, Mr.Wayne?"

 he laughed. it was a sophisticated sound followed by a charming smile that made her want to smile too. "other than the fact that they're related to _you_?"

her brows remained pressed together. the conversation troubled her but eventually the corner of her mouth lifted in a soft smile.

Dixie placed her fingers at the back of his neck, moving him closer delicately.

he obliged, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist and her lips grazed his ear as she whispered "you don't sound very _grateful_ for someone whose been borrowing my designs Mr Wayne," her thumb pressed into his jaw "or perhaps Lucious Fox forgot to tell you who made the breastplate for your... _costume?_ "

his grip around her waist tightened. she knew. "I trust you'll be keeping that information to _yourself_ , Miss Stratton."

  
A laugh rolled from her chest. Bruce studied her face but found no malicious intent; a little girl who'd found the cookie jar but told no one where it was hidden

"I call my studio the Arsenal for a reason," she explained quietly "but the Stratton family law is Confidentiality and, a bit like you, I enforce it to a fault."  
  
he seemed to relax a bit, letting his hand touch her hip but keeping his voice low "that almost makes me wonder what other secrets you could be keeping."  
  
she winked "nothing that would concern _the Batman,_ "

Spring Waltz by Chopin could be heard in the background, most likely Donnie breaking in the grand piano they'd brought in as the centerpiece of the office.

she loved hearing him play. the tune eased her thoughts from a frantic buzz to a soft lull- as if she hadnt been forced to be there; as if she hadnt left her house in the first place.

Bruce linked arms with Dixie, guiding her to one of the windows, making small talk loud enough for everyone to hear "i dont suppose youve started my suit yet, have you?"

she laughed "I'm still settling into life in Gotham so, if you dont mind, I'd expect to be waiting a few more weeks."

"fair enough," he smiled right back

both of them looked out at Gotham's skyline. grisly and dark but elegant and beautiful.

Bruce laid his hand on hers, pressing her fingers between his palm and arm. "I've been helping Jim Gordon look for a... character that's been leaving Joker cards at the scene of every crime."

her fingertips pressed into his jacket, nodding for him to continue.

"I heard Leonidas Stratton say the word 'Sgaoileadh' quite a few times while being arrested. you wouldn't happen to know what that means do you?"

she swallowed. **Joker**.  _Sgaoileadh means joker._ "I'm not sure to be honest. i don't speak Gaelic." she concluded. it wasn't the worst lie she had ever told.

"Regardless, if it happens that he's connected in any way, I have to... _report him_." he turned his gaze back to her for a moment before looking back out at the city. "and everyone involved. do you understand?"  
  
her fingers folded themselves behind her back "of course, Mr. Wayne. who am I to keep you from doing _your job_?"   
  
"i imagine you'd be more protective of your relatives, hearing the rumors _I've_ heard."  
  
of course, it was only fair that word of Dixie enabling her cousins, the scrappy but  _dumb_  Leonidas and the ever _loyal_ Carter, would be whispered into a few ears. if they needed money, she asked  _how much?_ if it was a place to stay, it was  _how long?_

"i love my family," she looked out the window distractedly, chest aching. _this morning was the last time._  "but Im done letting them drag me through the mud,"

"I heard family can be tricky that way," Bruce cocked a small smile."I guess it's lucky I don't have one."  
  
the joke threw her off guard. a nervous laugh escaped her and her face went red, not knowing how to continue appropriately. how could she make a joke about his family being murdered? "then how unlucky was I to be born a Stratton- there are far too many of us."

Bruce laughed "i imagine it's no worse than being a Wayne."

  
"Wayne, Stratton, Wayne, Stratton-" Donnie came up beside his sister, hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. "those are some big shadows we live under,"  
  
A small smile graced Bruce's lips "huge."


	3. Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did some re-writing of the first two chapters to make the story flow more smoothly so if you're up for it I would go back and look them over :D if not then please enjoy this long ass chapter anyways!

the moment Dixie arrived home from the office  party she felt wrong. the gate was unlocked.  
  
_danger_.  
  
the kitchen door was ajar  
  
_danger._  
  
she couldnt hear any barking  
  
_danger._  
  
she stepped inside, taking care to look around as she moved foreward.

on the floor was Lockjaw, a srynge stuck in his giant shoulder.

  
Dixie panicked, ripping it from the muscle and pressing her ear to his ribcage.  
  
his large heart beat once. twice. three times. he was alive with shallow breaths. she cradled his head and neck in her arms and stroked his chest. tears stung her eyes as she watched him sputter a few breaths. her throat burned, aching to cry out.  
  
_who would do this?_  
  
there was a thump from the studio upstairs and she jumped in surprise, standing to face the direction the noise had come from.

the way to the studio from the house began from a doorway hidden in a hallway closet-she was surprised to see it ajar when she looked up.

her eyes didn't want to leave Lockjaw.

her body didn't want to move toward the stairs.  
  
she stood on shaky legs and unhooked the rifle hidden under her coffee table, which in itself was a bad move. she was notorious in the family for having terrible aim.

before moving to Gotham, she considered just hiring a security guard. but growing up a Stratton, hiding weapons in the house was a hard habit to break, no matter how bad she was at using them.

Dixie tried to make herself angry but failed- all of the courage draining from her as she entered the closet.  
  
she went through the opening to see the door to her studio staircase left wide open, as if someone knew she was coming.  
  
her feet carried her cautiously over the threshold and the clicking of a pen could be heard from the top of the steps along with tense mumbling.

_come on comeoncomemnnn- hurry up._

she made her way up the steps and saw a pile of duffel bags, that she prayed to god weren't full of corpses, set around the stool she used to measure clients. she only had a moment to glance at them, then at the door of her vault in the corner when the clink of a gun being cocked caught her attention.  
  
she took a deep breath before looking in the direction of the sound and her gaze was met with the muzzle of a Glock. past the barrel she could see his face.  
  
the Joker.

" _now D **oll**_ , lets not do anything _rash_ ," he sauntered around her to stand where she could see him, wrapping his long fingers around the barrel of the rifle 

 her eyes pressed closed for a moment willing the panic away but failing miserably "what do you want?"  
  
" _perhaps_ ," he shrugged, ripping the weapon from her hands and tossing it across the room. _so much for that idea._ "are those fingers good at anything besides _sewing_?"

Dixie furrowed her brow, the innuendo wasn't lost on her but she decided to ignore it, trembling regardless of her outward courage "are you telling me you broke into my house and  _poisoned my dog_  so you could ask me to make a  _suit?"_

"yes but only if you're _feeling up to i **t** ," _he waved the gun around with his finger on the trigger like it was an extension of his hand- directive gesture instead of assault with a deadly weapon "if you aren't _**busy,** of course."_

her mind quickly wandered back to Lockjaw passed out on the kitchen floor, to the door of her safe, the bags on the floor. she took a another strained breath before responding "you have nice manners," Dixie's face grew hot with rage "for a _thief_."

  
" _me_?" his expression turned to one of mock confusion, exaggerating the act by throwing up his gloved palms in surrender "I'm a _paying customer,_ "  
  
her brows pressed together as he kicked one of the duffel bags- it's contents spilling out in the form of bricks of cash.

she didn't say a word. there weren't any words. shock? anxiety? _submission_? none of them could appropriately describe how she was feeling- so she kept quiet, but backed away until her work table was between them as he continued. 

he looked at a bundle of purple flannel on the table's surface, taking a fistful of it in his hand "this'll do for a coat, don't you think?" he pointed at it with his glock before aiming the muzzle back at dixie's head.

the material was cheap, only a few cents per yard from one of her distributors. her original plan was to make curtains from it but after some thought she had been meaning to throw the pile away.

what did he want her to say? her eyes trailed to his tongue, darting out to swipe at his red lips. what could she tell him that wouldn't make him snap like he did in the kitchen? "that'll be one warm ass coat."

  
"I want the inside to be silk-" he threw his head up and rested his free hand on his hip, as if he were deep in thought "let's make the vest- let's make it _green_ ," he spread the fabric out, ignoring her response, both to Dixie's relief and annoyance. "whadda ya say?"  
  
she sighed "you better not go screaming your head off about who made it," came her quiet reply, stomach knotting up at the thought of brick walls and cell bars. that was one part of Grandpa Daegan's business she never got to see; and hopefully never would. "not that I'm agreeing."  
  
"hmmh," he fisted the material agin, laying it back on the table, fingers still curled in its folds.  
  
he studied her with a distant expression but finally smiled as he responded, letting out a huff of air and a short cackle " _let me jus **t**_ \- just run an idea by you- just a quick;  _and what if I was to say_  Donald Stratton will  _die_ tomorrow if you don't get to work on it in thirty seconds?"  
  
her chest ached. would he really hurt Donnie? she looked directly into his eyes and saw nothing there. no indication that he wouldn't be ecstatic to violently murder her brother in his sleep... or in his office... or in front of her.

he didn't seem at all like a man that made empty promises...  
  
" **let's not do anything rash** ," her hand hovered over a metal plate on the side of the table, ready to press the built in button that would page the police

the clicking of his tongue stopped her "I wouldn't if _I_  were _you_ ," he warned, looking directly into the muzzle of his glock and wiping off a speck of invisible dust. "youll be _full of **lead**_ before they get here."

she considered pressing it anyways. then she considered the wads of money on the floor. there were at least a dozen bags, and if each of them was filled with cash... was he really going to just  _give it to her?_ "how much money is in that pile?"

" _somewhere_ north of sixty-eight _million."_ his voice deepened with each word he spoke, leaning against the other side of the table, palms now flat on it's surface- gun haphazardly stuffed in his pocket.

_"when would you like me to start?"_

 

* * *

Eugene Lee Yang walked up the steps into the studio, Dixie Stratton's 'Arsenal', with a spring in his step. he had dinner plans with Gotham's own Bruce Wayne and there was no way he would be passing through the city without paying a visit to his closest friend- albeit holding the surprise of her life.

he irritably recalled the traffic on his way there, weaving through both kids and adults dressed in ridiculous costumes to celebrate halloween and hoped his efforts wouldn't be for nothing.  _she better like this present or I'll flip a table,_ he thought

  
when he reached the steps he placed an object behind him and held out his arms for a hug  
  
"EEUUUUGEEENNEEEE!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist. her fingers pressed themselves into his spine delicately  
  
"DIXIIIIIEEEE!" he returned the warm embrace, rubbing circles into her back and patting her shoulder when he was ready for the hug to end _"is that Lockjaw?"_ he crowed at the sight of the dog laying patiently under the table

she let go of him, sighing happily and bouncing on her toes, watching lockjaw's giant head lazily rest on his paws "he's beautiful isn't he?"  
  
"absolutely," he acknowledged the animal with the tip of an imaginary hat before briefly touching Dixie's cheek "just like _you_." Eugene smiled wide, each of his perfectly straight teeth shining bright as diamonds. he looked like a wolf with that grin. a wild animal with a secret "I brought you a gift."  
  
Dixie reached out for another hug but he held up his hand for her to pause. she didnt pry or push him- Eugene had always liked his space. she settled for humming excitedly instead

he picked up the box behind him and presented it to her carefully.

after a moment of hesitation, her arms circled the wooden box, which was the size of a small child's coffin, and rested it on the table while she opened the latches.

his eyes drifted lazily from her confused expression to the table and back to her face, hoping to catch her seafoam green eyes. she was the same as when he last saw her a few months ago- short, bubbly and full of life. he flashed back to when they were kids; running through parking lots in New York pretending to be homeless so tourists would give them money for sweets. he wondered if she would ever change- silently hoped she wouldn't.  
  
before she could lift it's lid, Eugene laid his hand on it to stop her "before you see it, promise me you'll use it." he looked her in the eye, speaking sternly as if to scold a child "promise?"  
  
Dixie cocked a brow "do you want to tell me what it is first?"  
  
his head shook "no, no, you- i -open it," palms turning up in surrender "go ahead."  
  
her cell vibrated in her pocket and she rested one hand on the box as she checked the notification.  
  
**10 minutes - J**  
  
she grimaced at the screen and pinched the bridge of her nose. he would be here soon and she couldn't risk Eugene seeing him. "you have to go," she took her hand off the box "like right now."  
  
Eugene tilted his head, batting his long eyelashes "but I just got here-"  
  
"i know, I know just- _please_?" she held out her arms to embrace him.  
  
"it something wrong?" he didn't move a muscle, waiting for her to reply  
  
Dixie bit her lip and bounced on her heels a few times, letting her arms wave in gesture for him to hurry "nothing, I promise." her face began to heat up "go through the street door, I have someone coming from the house entrance."  
  
his thin arms wrapped comfortably around her in another hug and she waited patiently until he patted her shoulder to let go.  
  
"I'm having dinner with some people downtown today," he said as he skipped down the stairs. "will you come?"  
  
she ran her fingers through the fine strands of her hair, sweat forming on her brow from the anxiety "maybe."

he nodded, silently mumbling to himself about how he knew she would be coming to dinner- Dixie Stratton had never said no to Eugene Lee Yang. he threw a happy  _Auf Wiedershen, **until I see you again,**_ over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

she sat at the top of the stairs once eugene was out of sight, staring at the two closed doors at the bottom. one led into her house and the other opened to a hall that led to the Arsenal from the street.  
  
not very many people got to step through the frame of the 'house door'. it was a privelage only afforded to people she trusted; people she loved.

 _like Eugene_. her mind wandered back to the gift he'd brought and she reluctantly went to go see what it was.  
  
she walked around the table and came to the latches of the box once more. her fingers hovered over the lid for a moment before she opened the box.

dixie's chest ached when she laid eyes on it, ribcage suddenly too small for her bursting heart.

  
inside was her childhood, still as sleek and beautiful as she remembered. it was laid in a tight mold, just the right fit to keep it snug inside the box- lined with a fine red silk instead of velvet so as not to damage the wood. the object itself had obviously been touched up and added to, as the last time she saw it was on the floor of her mother's kitchen; the bottom smashed into a million pieces.  
  
it was Grandpa Daegan's violin.  
  
Dixie laid her head on the lip of the box and breathed deeply for a moment. the one year anniversary of her grandfather's death was only three months from now.  
  
she was supposed to play a song with Donnie at his first _Deathiversary_ to earn a two way split of his vast fortune. but she didn't want the money.  
  
Daegan Stratton didn't owe her a dime

* * *

 

  _Daegan sat in his study, putting the finishing touches on a shirt he'd made for his son. it was a sunny afternoon and he assumed his family would be exploring their new home -New York City had many attractions that Berlin did not- but of course it didn't surprise him when his tiny granddaughter peeked her head around the door, silently asking to enter._  
  
_when he nodded she proceeded to look through his belongings, visibly becoming more and more frustrated as she opened and closed things._  
  
_"What troubles you, **grādh**?" when she didnt respond to her nickname- the Gaelic for Darling- the man leaned back in his chair. hands folding in his lap as she scurried about, opening every drawer she could press her fingers to._

  
_she never looked up, just mumbled to herself repeatedly in German, his wife's native tongue, as she destroyed the room in search of whatever it was she needed._  
  
_he sat in patient silence for a few minutes while she looked around. she finally pulled his violin from a cabinet and sat behind his chair with it, still mumbling incoherently. she began to strain the chords of 'Oh Susanna' to avoid speaking to him, making several mistakes in her unease._  
  
_Daegan returned to his work and continued to stitch the shirt until he heard Dixie's small voice from the floor beside him._  
  
_"momma says you killed someone..." it was barely a whisper, drowned out by the tune she played, but he still heard it. "momma says you kill a lot of people..."_  
  
_he turned in his chair to see her better. her forehead pressed against the leg of the chair, short waves of black hair covered her face. the turmoil in her voice was obvious so he spoke gently "what made her say that, I wonder."_  
  
_"is that why everyone wears the crest?" she remained still as a statue. her voice cracked, though he couldn't see any tears fall "momma and papa- uncle Dillon... do they all kill people for money like you do?"_  
  
_his hand unconciously reached for his own shoulder, the family crest; a dragon against the backdrop of a shield permanently branded into his skin. he considered lying for a moment. she would be much better off with a fairy tale about love and peace- a picture painted with kind words and a gentle smile. but this was the real world. and the real world was **vile**. "Aye, grādh. They do."_  
  
_the girl's head tilted away from him, never leaving the wood of the chair. she whispered "do I have to kill people too?"_  
  
_a rough sigh escaped his lungs, fingers running through his graying hair. "of course not, little one..."_  
  
_she finally looked up at him after wiping her nose with her sleeve._  
  
_he crouched at her level, carefully sitting on the floor beside her and dragging the shirt off of the table as he did. "let's teach you a nobler family business, shall we?" he handed her the needle, laying the fabric across her lap._  
  
_Daegan smiled as his little granddaughter set the violin aside and did as he instructed, pulling the needle through each divet almost as expertly as he._  
  
_he hoped she would remember these moments when he was long gone- the good times they spent together._  
  
_he hoped._

* * *

 

she wanted very badly to be upset with Eugene, but the more she pondered it, the more grateful she was. she'd have to thank him.

  
her hand had barely touched the pocket of her jeans when the door, _the house door_ , burst open. Dixie didn't even need to check to know who it was and with each thud up the stairs the bile in her throat rose a little higher.

she would expect a psychopath to be wearing something more along the lines of a suit made from human skin- or at least a bummy t-shirt.

something more sinister; sloppy. uncoordinated.  
  
but no. it was a nice but wrinkled button up that he chose to wear- with patched trousers and a dressy, albeit incredibly dirty, jacket. maybe his mother taught him to dress. maybe his father had a desk job. she didn't care to ask.

 the scars looked much worse without a thick layer of red paste covering them. his skin was pale even without the white makeup. his teeth were still yellow; eyes dead but calculating. dark circles cradled them as they seemed to sink further into his skull with each blink. she could make out the shape of a gun shoved loosely in his pocket.  
  
_at least he looks clean_ , she consoled herself  
  
" _Afternoon_ , Doll-what's up- what are you, ah-?" he paused, eyes straying to Lockjaw. "heyyy-" he waved awkwardly at the animal. " _no hard_ _feelings_ , right?"  
  
the dog's lips pulled back in a snarl, backing up until his rear hit the leg of the table. hard feelings indeed.

the man came into the _Arsenal_ as if he owned the place, nonchalantly inspecting everything in his wake without a care in the world.

she tried to ignore him, drowning out the sound of his ominous humming with her own scattered throughts while she looked for her measuring tape.

she _tried_ to ignore him.

until she heard fingers tapping hollow wood.

she was by him in an instant, watching him whip the violin out of its case and wave it in th air as she approached, not even looking up at her.

something pressed against his groin and he looked down to see a gun there, his own glock. muzzle smashed into his ballsack with dixie's finger on the trigger.  
  
"give it to me." she commanded. the adrenaline flooding her veins was evident in the way her voice cracked "and don't drop it; let it go gently into my hand or your giblets get blasted."  
  
he licked his lips, leaning his face into hers " _so,_ the _**great**_ _Daegan Stratton's_ famed _violin._   _is_ this _it_?" he asked, waving it in the air one more time.  
  
her face went hot; the man was flirting with death and she secretly hoped he would make a wrong move so she'd have a valid reason to shoot off his dick. "yes and I'd like it back. _now_."

a low growl came from beneath the table but even with the threat it was apparent that lockjaw had no intention of moving from that spot.  
  
" _I'm_ told by _dear Leo_ that, ah," his eyeballs rolled back in his head, chin tilting as if he were trying to recall something " _you cant **shoot** for shi **t**_. you'd do well to put a _muzzle_ on _that_ kid."

 Dixie wasn't stupid. one glance at the gun told her the Joker had converted it to full auto. even at a distance, as soon as she pulled the trigger everything in the room would have a bullet in it, _including_ him- nevermind her terrible aim. she decided to ignore his comment "do you really want to play games right now?"

 he stared at her for a good long moment before pressing the neck of the violin gently into her hand, holding out his own for the glock. a fair trade.

 Dixie obliged and put the violin back in the box and mumbled tensely as she turned back to him, gesturing to the middle of the room. "will you please take off your jacket and stand on that stool?"

it was strange to see him unbutton his shirt and toss it off. it was a _little_ more than she'd asked for. the action seemed too...normal for him. like a blue collar worker getting undressed for a shower. there was nothing particularly spectacular or minutely sinister about him if she cut her view off at his neck and pretended he wasnt _him._  he was thin with minimal bulk. a physically healthy human male. he was firm, probably from all of the scuttling around he did as a criminal but no tattoos or giant muscles or bodily blemishes to set him apart from any other average joe on the street.

by any definition, no matter how skewed, the Joker was a Man.

he reached into his jacket pocket from the floor and produced a cheeseburger wrapped in brown paper; so incredibly random that it confused her. even so, she did her best to make small talk.

she couldnt think of any non-invasive questions to ask so she settled for conversation about the suit; what colors, pinstripes or no, pockets, lapels, anything she could talk about to keep him from lunging off of the stool and strangling her to death

 "what even made you want a Stratton?" she asked as she measured his chest, which was much less narrow than she assumed it would be from the look of his oversized dumpster jacket. his bare skin was hot to the touch as her fingers grazed him "there are plenty of other tailors you could have gone to."

her palm reached out, facing upwards to silently ask for his hand, which he obliged. she couldn't help but marvel at how complacent he was being- how cooperative, as he let her extend and measure the length of his bare arm

she was tempted to ask where he got his clothes from; why he was in Gotham in the first place. did he even exist before he reared his crazy head here?  
  
his reply came as gargled chewing sounds "when I saw your brother wearing a suit sharp enough to **slice my eyeballs from their sockets,** I knew nothing _else_ would do."  
  
a prideful smile flashed across her lips, gone the instant it appeared, measuring his inseam from his ankle to the inside of his thigh- right against his crotch. Dixie waited for some kind of sexist remark but it never came, instead replaced by the sound of him choking on a giant bite of his burger.  
  
"do you want a classic cut or a flare? she asked, jotting down the measurement in her notebook.  
  
he took another bite, hopping off the stool with a heavy thud. " _you're_ the exper ** _t_** " he shrugged and replied with his mouth still full "daddy just wants to look _goo **d**_."  
  
she picked up her phone, nodding.  
  
the Joker didnt like being ignored.  
  
Dixie froze when his fingers covered hers. his hand was cold and stiff in contrast to the rest of him. she cautiously turned her head up to look at him, pulling her hand away uncomfortably as she did so. it relieved her to find that his shirt was back on, buttons and all.  _when had he done that?_  
  
he took note of the expression on her face. disgust. fear. anger. delicious little details that made his dopamine levels rise. maybe she didn't enjoy him, but _boy,_ was he starting to enjoy _her_. his face leaned closer so their noses were touching, gripping the knife in his pocket  
  
her nose scrunched, heart dropping into her stomach.  
  
"I have to be somewhere after this," she pushed herself away from the table. away from him.  
  
the wrapper from his burger found itself flying across the room. " _and_?" he flopped backwards, letting his back smack flat against the table's surface, smashing all of the carefully placed tools she'd laid out.  
  
like a kid, Dixie thought. it made her anxious. he made her anxious. a psychopath with no obvious moral compass and a pocket full of knives had complete control of her life now and there was nothing she could do...  
  
she picked up an object near her- a bundled pair of gloves she made from purple seal leather- and threw it at him, watching him dramatically tumble to the ground while bouncing it in his hands as if it were a grenade. pens and scissors, swathes of fabric fell down around him, rolling over the floor.

the dog under the table backed into the corner. her once night in shining armor reduced to a coward, shaking at the presence of a man with so many holes in his pants they should have been falling apart.  
  
her head shook. there was no time for this nonsense "so get out of my studio," she regretted the words instantly as they left her mouth.  _he's not a friend,_ she reminded herself.  _you are in **danger**._

he unballed the gloves, slipping them one at a time over his thin spidery hands when he realized what they were, expression growing dark. " _what was that,_ doll _?"_ he growled "i dont think I  _heard_ you correctly."

 the stress of the past week had been an enormous burden. there wasn't a single moment to catch her breath in the days following the Joker's proposition and, if she were honest, it was driving her a little mad; the heaviness of it all skewing her judgement and making her feel bolder than she aught to.  _I said **leave.**_

she didn't get the chance to reply.

 something grazed her leg and she looked behind her to see that lockjaw had moved to the stairs- so still he could have been a statue.

a faint  _thump_ had the Joker at the stairs beside lockjaw.

Dixie leaned foreward on her toes in obvious anxiety "what-"

"-would you mind _**n** o **t** running your **mouth**_ for a second-" the glock's muzzle was whipped out of his pocket and pressed to her eyeball in an instant. she did as she was told as he peered down the stairs.

 he took his sweet time trying to guess what it was, tilting and shaking his head to verbally throw each guess away. he only stopped when Dixie made her way down the stairs and through the house door to see what had made the sound.

it was another uncharacteristic move brought on by a lack of sleep and a surplus of stress but still, she crept out of the closet and down the hall to peek into the living room.  
  
there was a person at her coffee table shoving random things into a backpack. from behind she could tell the large form belonged to a man. his grubby hands grabbed at everything near him- empty picture frames, candles, a mug she had left there the week before- all unimportant things her interior designer had insisted on. _feng-shui matters,_ she'd said.  
  
it probably didn't matter much now that the items were being roughly shucked into a bag.  
  
she stepped back and turned to make her way back to the studio but the Joker caught her in his arms. her sharp inhale made a grin sprout across his lips. she hadnt expected him to follow her  
  
he inched her backwards into the living room, with a tight grip on her shoulders "you've got yourself a _trick-or-treater,_ " a high pitched laugh pierced the air when he saw the man

 the joker leaned back, bending his knees in humor- the irony of the situation was hilarious. all three times he'd been to her house, _someone_ had broken in.  
  
Dixie tried to maneuver herself back into the hallway but the Joker's firm hands held her there; only tossing her aside when the intruder flashed a revolver in their direction.  
  
the man had a mask on, reminiscent of Jason from the movie Halloween. _how fitting_.  
  
the Joker looked at the size of the Smith and Wesson in his hand, flicking his tongue out across his lips. it was the kind of weapon he'd pack to shoot through twelve people at once, blast a whole in five walls and drop the engine out of someone's car- not to intimidate a _clothing designer._ "were you planning a home invasion or a _rhinoceros hunt?"_ he unconciously stepped foreward.

the masked man stood fully, taking a few steps of his own towards the joker and pointing his gun at Dixie, who was lingering off to the side in the shadow of the hall.

the Joker sidestepped to put himself between her and the man's line of fire, pressing the middle of his chest to the gun's muzzle  
  
he hesitated and the joker egged him on  
  
"come on, _shoot me_ ," he snarled. Rage was evident in his entire being- posture stiff, voice coarse. Dixie could only imagine the look on his face. "I _want_ you to shoot me," he smacked the arm of the man, forcing him backwards while bringing the muzzle to his forehead "do. i _ **t**_." his fingers curled around the barrel, holding it in place

 **_"DO_**   _it."_

  
when he received no reply, the Joker's hands shot foreward and grabbed the front of the man's jacket, pulling him so they were nose to nose through the mask

Dixie watched in horror as he flicked out a knife; the same one he'd threatened her with in her kitchen- only this time there was nothing to break his focus. 

_"you wanna know how I got these scars?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, remember that the amount the Joker stole from the mob bank at the beginning of the movie was 68 million and it was implied that he spent the whole amount on his suit- Idk if that's true but we're going to play off of the chaotic aspect of that
> 
> I'm also making it so that the events of the first like 20 minutes of the movie span over a few months- I know a tailor and suits take him about 6-10 weeks to make so I'm going to drag out these next few chapters so much you'll lose your minds BUT it'll give me time to develop Dixie and the Joker as...colleagues I guess.... so buckle up kids, you are in for the ride of your lives


	4. Beasts of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before we begin- a big shout out to "Boag" for commenting on the last chapter- it made me really happy to hear you liked the Measuring scene and even happier that you commented on general^-^<3

Dixie never made it to Eugene's dinner- instead spending the bulk of her evening mopping blood from her living room floor and crudely re-upholstering her sofa.

 _Everyone dies, Doll_. a psychotic hum bordered by a refreshed sigh in the Joker's high pitched drawl wouldn't leave her head; rewinding itself in her subconscious a million times. _some folks just clock out earlier._

he made a vague but very creepy comment about her being attractive before he left and she took it as an attempt to unsettle her rather than a compliment.

once the Joker was gone, Dixie didn't have anything left to do but the job he'd given her. she remained awake for the next few days, fixing a large, heavy coat from the cheap pile of flannel he requested. lots of pockets. flared cuffs. lined in red silk.  
  
it seemed he'd put the most thought into that one piece. he had simple requests for the tie and vest, not really paying much attention to the jacket or shirt aspect of the suit- _fuck the rest of it_ , he'd said with a wave of his hand.  
  
should they be green?  
  
should they be red?  
  
purple to match his coat?  
  
what socks would he wear and could she convince him to ditch the _awful_ brogues on his feet for something sleeker?  
  
she hurried and fussed for three days, coming to the realization that once the suit was finished, no one would actually see it besides the people he brutally murdered.  
  
it was a cruel twist of fate that she couldn't put a brand on him; the hexagon framing an 'S' that would usually mark a suit as a Stratton would have to be absent in case anyone examined it closely- she wouldn't be going to jail over something as vain as a _logo_ , that was for damn sure.

matching colors and lost advertisement oppertunities nagged at her like a hoarde of locusts; unwavering and belligerent, until 10 AM on the fourth day, when she finally finished the coat.

she had intended to fall asleep immediately after feeding the dog, but the chorus of  _New York, New York_ coming from her phone told her that fate had other plans.

"Dixiiiiieee!!" Eugene's happy voice sang through the phone "I missed you at dinner on sunday. what happened?"  
  
"I got a little sidetracked," her laugh was enthusiastic but nervous "but I can meet for lunch if you're still in Gotham!" she added quickly. it was now 11AM.  
  
he paused.  
  
she waited.  
  
"that sounds great Dix. I'll pick you up in half an hour."  
  
she groaned when the call ended, sliding a thick leather collar over Lockjaw's neck and preparing for the lecture already playing out in her mind..

* * *

 lockjaw's face grazed hers from the back seat, squeezing between her cheek and the window. it was a comfort to have him there and she was thankful Eugene didn't put up a fight when she loaded him into the bugatti.

he'd always been a father figure in her life- omnipotent in the absence of actual parents. she appreciated it but once in a while it wore her down like sandpaper.

his hug when he picked her up was too short. his sentences too dry.

he was disappointed and she could tell.

"I never got to say thank you..." she bit her lip, fingers running through her hair. "for the  _gift."_  
  
Eugene saw from his peripheral vision and patted her knee in reassurance. "no you did not." he confirmed.  
  
she nodded, watching the side of his face move as he focused on the road "thank you."  
  
he smiled that familiar wolfy grin with his perfect white teeth, finally glancing at her. "Any time."

her head nodded.

anyone who'd ever met Dixie Stratton knew she could charm the fangs off a rattlesnake. she was kind and lighthearted- always pleasant to speak to.  
  
New York's Sweetheart and now Gotham's.  
  
you'd never guess that she was usually happy by the way she anxiously picked at her clothes.

lockjaw barked at another dog passing by on the curb.

Eugene recognized the shirt as one of his old button-ups and the faded black jeans she used to wear in high school; both still fit her like a glove. neither were ever worn when she was in a good mood. the top button on the shirt was loose so she ripped it off, toes of her boots tapping against the car door.  
  
and like the mother hen he was, Eugene coaxed her with questions, none of which she was eager to answer.

 "what was so important that you had to miss dinner?" the suspicion in his voice was thick  
  
she groaned "why does it matter?"  
  
"because you're an Obsessive Compulsive Perfectionist and normally you'd call." the response was short and factual. it didn't beg or scold and Dixie began to think up a lie to tell that would ease him off her back. 

  
none came to mind.

"lockjaw is a bit quiet today."

her face leaned into the animal's nose and he let out a small whine, resting his chin on her shoulder as the movement of the car rocked him back and forth.  
  
Eugene tapped the steering wheel as he made a turn "what's bothering you?"

* * *

_"please Dixie-this is the last time, I promise!"_  
  
_"you wanna hear a joke?"_  
  
_"of course, yes, tell me"_  
  
_"say knock knock."_  
  
_"...knock knock?"_  
  
_"who's there?"_  
  
_"Dixie-"_  
  
_" **who's there**?"_  
  
_"...Leo."_  
  
_"piss off, you can't borrow money."_

 _Donnie and Carter Stratton made their way up the steps of the Arsenal to the sight of Dixie and Leo squared off in the middle of the studio- both arguing fervently in opposition of eachother._  
  
_dixie's eyes caught them over Leo's shoulder "did you tell him you were coming today?"_

  
_Carter's yellow brow raised in surprise "you mean, did I tell my brother to get a new suit for our great uncle's deathiversary?" his large hand covered his chest as if to defend his honor, "of course I did."_  
  
_"if it makes you feel any better" leonidas inched foreward-_  
  
_"don't; **Dont**. DON'T." she held up her rotary cutter an inch from his face, the thin blade level with his nose "STOP,"_  
  
_"you're being very uncharacteristically manic right now Dixie- maybe you should see a doctor?-"_  
  
_"go! get out!" Dixie's fingers fisted her hair. " please_ _just do_ _whatever it is you do that doesnt require you being here."_

_this was like the morning in the kitchen- a heavy cataclysm of variables far from dixie's control- Daegan's tribute exposition had been pushed up to a month from today and she hadn't planned for any of this. a headache pulsed between her eyeballs_

_"didn't you hear my sister?" Donnie fisted the small man's collar, shoving the muzzle of his Colt into his neck like a metal steering wheel towards the stairs. "get gone,"_

_there was a low growl from beneath the table that confused the boys. whereas usually lockjaw would be roaring by now, they hadn't even noticed he was in the room._  
  
_Leo tripped halfway down but did as he was told, opening the door that led to the street "German Fuck," he mumbled as his hand touched the knob_  
  
_"Irish Prick," Donnie's voice was loud and demanding- a dare for his cousin to say more._

_a sigh left Carter's lungs and he wrapped his long arms around dixie, giving a squeeze before walking around the Arsenal with his hands in his pockets. calm and collected as always. "he's trying to be better," he mumbled "it may not look like it but he's really trying."_

_"you were a little harsh this time..."_

_"i know, and i swear im not **trying** to be a crazy bitch, i just-" her hand covered her face, fighting back a sob "I just want to get through the Exposition without having an aneurysm."_

_"speaking of which," Donnie jogged to the middle of the studio with his cousin, clapping loudly "where is it?"_

_"where is what?"_

  
_his lips pursed "the hunk of wood, what do you think?"_  
  
_a sad grin creeped across her lips and an image of Eugene smiling his own wolfy smile, not a care in the world, flashed through her thoughts like a bolt of lightning as she opened her vault to retrieve it._

 _she sized the two men in the room up in her head as they tried to put eachother in a headlock, almost tumbling over her measuring stool._  
  
_Carter was tall and docile. his decision making skills were top notch from constantly keeping Leo out of trouble; Donnie was a volcano. explosive. messy._  
  
_she loved them both to death._

 _they passed the instrument around carefully, inspecting it with a multitude of ' wow's and 'holy shit's before laying it back in it's case._  
  
_Carter flipped the fringe from his eyes "does this mean you're performing after all?"_  
  
_Dixie busied herself with a random task while they taked, almost tripping over Lockjaw. this wasn't something she wanted to think about, but with Donnie's green eyes boring holes into her as she fussed at her work table she didn't have much of a choice._

_"Are we, Dixie?"_

_she ignored him_

_" **Dixie**."_

_she tried with all her might to keep working through the intense glare but it wasn't Donnie's voice that made her stop- it was Leo's._  
  
_he called from the bottom of the stairs "I don't want to alarm you but you have a visitor..."_

_******_

_her lungs let out a shaky breath as she stood before the kitchen door._

_she almost didn't open it._

_on the other side was a tall man with graying hair and sharp green eyes. a clean black beard covered his jaw and between his lips sat a German cigar. as he took it in his fingers Dixie caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his hand._  
  
_A dragon against a six-sided shield._  
  
_"hello Father."_  
  
_Amos Stratton stepped lazily into the kitchen and walked past his daughter with no greeting. like she was a piece of furniture; not worth his consideration._

 _it was strange to see him in her house- his features matched her brother's almost to the last detail. she had to remind herself they weren't the same person_  
  
_"where is my mother." it came out as a statement as opposed to a question. Dixie didn't want to know. she didn't care._  
  
_"not here," his voice was beautiful, a light and lilting accent that wasn't quite German but not quite Irish either. just as she remembered._  
  
_it made her sick. "what do you want?"_

_he picked at a loose thread on her sofa, turning with another puff from the cigar. "let's have a little chat."_

* * *

_everything_. "nothing."  
  
his brows raised and he gave her a sideways glance. "okay Dixie."  
  
he obviously didn't believe her.  
  
she didn't expect him to.

when they pulled up to a hotel, Dixie's mood lifted a bit. she knew exactly who owned it and whose penthouse sat at the top. she couldn't say she wasn't happy at the realization.  
  
speaking with Bruce Wayne was always a pleasant occasion.

 he had never been anything but kind to her and with his fine list of achievements as the Caped Crusader, she felt safer than she'd been in weeks. as soon as her feet crossed the threshold to exit the elevator, all of the tension left her body in a crescendo of relief despite her exhaustion.  
  
"if he needs to, ah, take a break, I can have someone-" Bruce offered as he approached them.  
  
"I let him do his business in your lobby actually," she took his palm in hers for a firm squeeze "a mountain right in front of the door," her hands went up to emphasise the size of the imaginary pile "to teach you a lesson for being richer than me."  
  
Bruce choked on a laugh. the gleeful sound made Dixie feel warm, light as a feather. 

*******

 "the wind is picking up about this Batman character." Eugene extended his fork over to Dixie, at the end was a plump cherry tomato- he hated them.  
  
it took all but the grace of God to keep her from exploding with laughter. _are we really going to have a conversation about the Batman with the Batman?_  
  
she cleared her throat, plucking the offering from his fork with her fingers "that's just because you don't live here," Bruce glanced at her, cocking a brow at the smile that played on her lips _"he's old news."_

he picked up on her game in an instant and countered "I'm not so sure about that, he still seems pretty relevant to  _me_ ,"

 "if you want her to gossip with you, quit while you're ahead," Eugene chuckled "Dixie loves to talk, but she doesn't much care for spreading rumors."

her eyes rolled but the smile remained "that's because spreading rumors is telling secrets-"

Eugene sang along as she finished her sentence "- _ **and secrets should stay secret, aye, Grādh?**_ "

at the confused look on Bruce's face, the two explained Daegan Stratton's many philosophies;

_don't share secrets_

_always feed your guests_

_never interrupt a musician playing an instrument._

simple concepts that let Dixie's world continue to turn after he passed away, and Bruce was happy to hear them all. he listened to the two talk about their childhood for hours, prodding them to stay when he stepped out for a phone call and having Alfred bring dinner as well when it was late into the evening.

eventually Eugene had to leave, but Bruce offered to drive Dixie home.

"I'm sorry we couldn't have a casual meeting sooner than this," his arm held the door open as she walked out. "I've been a bit busy lately."  
  
she smiled "I know how that is."  
  
"i was wondering," he caught her hand in his with hooded eyes, bringing them to a halt "I have another free day a week from now."

"and?"

"would you like to come dinner with me?"

her face grew hot with a blush.  
  
the man could have her in his bed in an instant if he asked, if he had the intention to; if she had been a little less wise to his act.  
  
But Dixie Stratton was no fool. And she knew Bruce Wayne didn't want her.  
  
"I know how small your circles run, Bruce" her tone lowered and she cupped her hand to her mouth as if to tell a secret "and a little bird told me you have a thing for _Rachel Dawes,_ "  
  
he gave a sheepish grin, dropping the seductive facade. "oh?" there was a pause as Bruce waited for her to continue.

it was Alfred, taking time to chat with her and Eugene while Bruce stepped out. "I'll never tell you _who_." she said playfully

  
he nodded with a smile- tension melting away from his rigid posture. "then come to dinner anyways," his palm found hers again, this time in a handshake "we can go as friends."  
  
Dixie tried to pretend the words coming from his mouth weren't razor blades sinking into her heart and squeezed his hand. she had only met the man a handful of times, but the weight still laid itself on her shoulders as she put on a smile.

another thing she'd have to pretend didnt bother her.

she used her other to cover her mouth, feigning shock with a gasp "I'm being upgraded from _acquaintance_ to _friend_?"  
  
"I may as well take advantage of you knowing my deepest darkest secret." his hand rested at the small of her back, leading her to his car for a trip back to the brownstone.

dixie laughed at herself for trying to charm a man who was far more charming than she would ever be. she could certainly live with being a friend of Bruce Wayne.

 a grin inched across her face as she took the passenger's seat hauling Lockjaw into her lap " _touche_."

* * *

 when she came into the house, Dixie slid down the living room doorframe, dropping to the floor in exhaustion. 

her eyes began to water. she couldnt tell if it was from the lack of sleep or the heavy events of the past few weeks she was itching to talk about or the weight of realizing she'd sold her soul to a criminal. all things Grandpa Daegan would never approve of. his thick Irish accent was like a mirror shattering in her head.

_"you're only a criminal if you make yourself one,"_

lockjaw sat between her legs, waiting for some kind of direction, a command that would never come.  
  
instead she just sat with him. listening to him breathe, stroking his shiny black coat. his white teeth peeked from beneath the flap of his lip and his giant toes splayed as they tried to keep him from sliding foreward on the smooth floor. he would never take advantage of her or judge her or leave her.

he was Dixie's best friend.  
  
not Eugene. not Donnie.

  
they drifted off to sleep together on the waxed wood floor, arms wrapped around his chest, head rested on his neck as loud snores erupted from his throat.  
  
Dixie dreamed about the Batman flying over street lamps and past buildings. of mob dealers and home invasions- things that weren't her problem once upon a time. things that _shouldn't_ be her problem _now_.

* * *

 

*KNOCK*

 her head felt slow-rusty like a bike chain that had been sitting in the rain for too long- as she groggily walked to the kitchen door.

Lockjaw followed close behind her.  
  
she opened it to a man with green eyes and black hair, assuming it was Amos for a moment while her vision adjusted to the darkness of the yard but tossing the notion away as soon as he spoke  
  
"you gotta tell me what dad said to you."  
  
she immediately wanted to go back to sleep. "he didn't say anything."

 " _don't lie to me,_ " maybe he did sound a bit like their father. "what did that motherfucker say to you when he came in yesterday?"

pressure grew behind her eyes and she had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep the pain from spreading. what lie could she tell that wouldn't make him angry? 

the pause was too long, which visibly tested his patience. "if you're going to eat shit, it's best not to nibble."

"he asked if I was going to the Deathiversary."

* * *

  _"my talented daughter," his arms spread towards her, not expecting her to move foreward. "you look just like your mother."_

_her head nodded._

_"where is the violin?"_

_she didn't miss a beat "what violin?"_

_"I'm not a fool, you ungrateful brat-" he pointed at her face with his cigar "the one your chink friend repaired so you and my son could ruin me."_

_"I don't know what you're talking about, dad."_

_he seemed to implode before countering with more false friendliness, touching her chin "of course you don't, my beautiful child."_

_her entire body jerked backwards and for a moment she was reminded of the first time she'd met the Joker. but Amos disgusted her far more than he did. "what did you come to tell me?"_

_at this, his expression went hard "that if I hear word or whisper of you attending my father's exposition, I will have you gunned down." he put out the cigar on her sofa, chucking it behind him when he finished "and I won't lose a wink of sleep."_  
  
_Dixie exhaled, lips curling up into a deceptively warm smile. "Grandpa Daegan would be turning in his grave if he knew you were threatening me." she said in a calm, quiet tone "seeing as he loved me more than he loved you."_  
  
_Amos took her wrist slowly, tightening his grip once he could pull her closer "you're allowed to sit here in your guarded tower and smile all you want," he explained "i will allow that. but Daegan's money is owed to us. my wife and i raised you with nothing but the clothes on our backs, scraped and struggled while you sat in a painted fortress doing **nothing**."_  
  
_"you think leaving me alone in a shitty apartment on a ghetto street with corpses in the closet was raising me?" the disgust in her voice was obvious "you can have it all; take all of the money,"_

 _"i will," the promise was dark as he released her wrist and calmly walked to the kitchen door._  
  
_as she watched the back of his head disappear, she could hear him call "every penny."_

* * *

 Donnie pressed his thumbs into her shoulders "we're doing it, Dixie," he told her firmly "we're playing at the goddamn Expo and getting Daegan's inheritance. they aren't getting a _cent_."

 a sob formed in her throat but before she could object his phone rang.

"mind if I take this in your room?" he checked the screen, wrapping his arm around her shoulders briefly "i won't be long."

she nodded obediently and stood still as a statue until she heard the door close.

her head rested on the counter, listening to lockjaw's heavy breathing from the living room.

she had barely a moment to rest before there was another knock at the door and Dixie could feel herself slipping into madness. she needed to sleep. she needed to eat. she needed everyone to just  _leave her alone._

when she opened it she expected Leo to be on the other side, perhaps to ask for money, perhaps to also borrow her Lamborghini and total it for the third time; or maybe aunt doris come to look for him. she expected to see some stranger with a knife, ready to slice her throat down to the bone.  
  
the last guess wasn't far off.  
  
her stomach grumbled, ready to empty her lunch onto the man's light blue button up and black dumpster jacket. what was he doing back so soon? how would she get rid of him?

his hand rested over his stomach and she could see red blooming out from the spot through his gloved fingers.

"what happened?" her voice was a dry rasp.

he said nothing but the edge of his bright red lip twitched. the same look on his face as when he'd left her house the night before, covered in blood that wasn't his own.

Dixie got the sudden urge to close the door in his face. she couldn't deal with this right now; she hadnt planned for any of this to happen today-

the knob of her bedroom door moved.

she groaned, pulling him by the lapels through the halls and into the closet. without a word they jogged up the studio steps. Donnie might be busy for another minute or two but-

" _hey, Dix!"_  she jumped and shoved the Joker further into the room when her brother called from the bottom of the stairs 

he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for himself with a lighter from dixie's table. thankfully he still faced away from the steps but the smoke drew Donnie's attention as his sister walked over to him

"whothefuckisthat?" Donnie mumbled uncomfortably, wrapping his arm around dixie's shoulder  
  
she opened her mouth several times to speak, groaning in frustration when she couldnt out the words together. her head began to ache from the anxiety and she decided not to attempt to explain what was happening.  
  
"no one, just-" her face went hot "just go Don; just get out-go, leave-" she pushed him towards the steps, ignoring his protests "it doesn't matter who it is, get out."

he turned to wave just before slamming the house door shut.

 " _you_ seem on **edge** ,"  smoke exited the Joker's lungs as he spoke  
  
she walked around him and reached for the first button of his shirt to see the wound but thought better of it. he wasn't one of Carter and Leo's Nobody-From-Nowhere friends that came to raid her fridge while she patched them up. he was a terrorist.  _a murderer._

her arms instead wrapped around her body. "what happend?"  
  
"oh, _this_?" he exhaled another breath of smoke. she would compare him to a dragon, but then, she doubted even dragons were this terrifying. "I got into a-hhhh little _disagreement_."  
  
she reached out her hand once more "do you-" her fingers pulled back in hesitation "is it bad?"  
  
he leaned his elbow on the table, using the same hand to lift the shirt from his bloody skin "you tell _me_."

 the bile rose in her throat. it was more of a slice than a stab, which meant he would probably live, but the wound was angry and swollen. 

Dixie wasn't used to this. when Daegan died, every living man under his great wings had flocked to Donnie. but the only things she ever heard of him continuing Daegan's work was childsplay- cartoon drama; none of the sinister,  _traumatizing_ bullshit she'd been doing for the past few weeks.

he let out a strained groan as he stood from the chair, stripping out of his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt with his cigarette still in his mouth.

she didn't know how to react as he handed her the shirt.

the frown on her face at the blotch of his blood still inching through the fibers made him chuckle but neither said a word.  
  
Dixie quietly stepped out of the studio to toss the blue button up into her washing machine with a half gallon of detergent and came back to see him still sitting- forearms resting on his knees. she watched from the top step, brain churning itself into jelly from the intense lack of sleep and enormous amount of stress that stabbed at her since the moment she met him.  
  
it was only a few weeks ago but she could swear the anxiety had taken years off of her life.  
  
he looked at the pictures that lined her back wall- mostly paintings and swathes of fabric. dull and businessy. there was a portrait of a woman posing on a car and he wondered if he could hit her iris if he shot at it from his seat. "I hear a gal named _Ava_ wants you **dead**."  
  
she sank to the floor on the top step, the weight of her body becoming too heavy for her legs as she registered what he'd said. "how do you know that?"

Lockjaw inched up the steps towards her, not wanting to come too close to the man with the painted face. he danced back and forth on the top step but decided not to go further, settling between dixie's legs where it was safe.  
  
The Joker gave one of his usual cackles "you're _all the rage_ right now," he slid a gun from his jacket, which hung loosely on his bare shoulders "who _doesn't_ know?"  
  
the weapon this time was a Magnum- loud and alarming. she winced when he began emptying rounds into the wall.

she never liked that picture anyways.

  
"my dad dropped by to threaten my life," she whispered between shots, wrapping her arms around the dog's neck. "I didnt know they'd already made plans to kill me..."

 the chair creaked when he stood and Dixie looked up to see the butt of his magnum in her face "hold that-here- lemme  _show you something._ "

she let him press her shaky hands around the weapon, covering her hands with his palms and flipping the safety lock off. his hands were rough, instruction abrupt and unexpected.  
  
"you aim for the middle, _here_." he touched the muzzle of the gun to the middle of his chest pushing her fingers into place with his own "for the _heart_."  
  
her voice was barely a whisper as he draped himself on the step beside her, ignoring a loud grumble from Lockjaw. "on you that must be a pretty small target."  
  
" _ah yeah_ , when you decide to kill me just unload _whatever_ you've got." he pulled her hand with the gun towards his body and tapped the muzzle to all of his extremities, his liver, kidneys, _the still bleeding abdominal wound_ , to emphasize imaginary bullet wounds. "I'd do the same to Ava Stratton if **_I_** were you- be sure she can't _resurrect_ ," the last word was a humorous snort, as if he were trying to hold in a loud laugh.  
  
apparently the bread and butter of a good villlain was knowing who to violently murder and who to leave alone.  
  
still.  
  
she couldn't kill her mother.  
  
"I would never hurt my family." her breathing was shallow as she handed the gun back to him.  
  
_"then you're a damn fool."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the Dark Knight a few million more times and realized that the only moments the joker is really manic are when he is in an extreme mood (angry, joyous, etc.). other than that he's just a.... really strange regular person.... for lack of a better explanation. so some of his conversations will be a bit subdued- of course you can imagine his high and low pitches when he's speaking because I'll be trying to portray them in the story but he's not going to do too much crazy shit when he and Dixie are just having a regular conversation because it wouldn't be true to the character.
> 
> *watch the scene where the mob dealers meet him for the first time to talk about killing Batman to see what I'm talking about!*
> 
> also if you're expecting to see him hit Dixie at some point you'll be disappointed because I didn't find any evidence anywhere *in the movie* that the Joker would hit a woman- there is a lot of ultra rough handling, yes, but even in the scene with Rachel he didn't do anything dishonorable except....you know...throw her out of a window...:^)
> 
> EDIT(I'll also be adding this to the notes in the next chapter):  
> by that I meant just this specific version of the joker- I've read all the comics and seen all of the individual series and totally agree that he's abusive and violent. however, not only is that within the confines of the versions of him that have a Harley Quinn but I didn't want to make this a Harley Quinn-esque story.
> 
> if I were kidnapped by an abusive violent psychopath there wouldn't be any realistic chance of me falling in love with him, not even by Stockholm syndrome and that's basically what happened with Harley Quinn so I'm taking a far off approach from that
> 
> the details I'm using are just what I've seen in the movie, not any other versions of him seen anywhere else.


	5. News Flash

_**LIVE BROADCAST** _

 

 _A female, aged twenty four with a single gunshot wound to the head was confirmed to be Dixie Stratton; Owner of the world renowned tailoring company, The Arsenal._  
  
_Her brother and cousin, Donald and Leonidas Stratton were found only a few feet away and claimed dead on arrival at Gotham General Hospital._  
  
_Sources say they were attacked while coming home from an event for their grandfather, the late Daegan Stratton._  
  
_Miss Stratton's condition is critical and we are currently waiting for an update from the family._  
  
_As of now, the suspect has not been found._

 

 

**_Stay tuned._ **


	9. OFFICIAL HIATUS

don't be mad Y'all, but I've decided to put this story on hiatus and re-write it. the first and second chapter of the rewrite are up as "Batshit Crazy" and I'll eventually finish this version after completing that one. again I'm super sorry!*cries* Dixie is still the main character of that one though so at least there's that!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Batshit Crazy- *being rewritten just ignore this*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689922) by [TheCosmicSlaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicSlaughter/pseuds/TheCosmicSlaughter)




End file.
